Sergio’s place presses up against the back side of a massive abandoned factory and is situated across from a transporter scrapyard. The wooden shack has tinted windows and a slanted aluminum roof—a perfect place for unlawful dealings.
I hand the bag of clothes to Gemma and knock with a leaden hand. Closing my eyes, I touch my locket, asking for some help with just this one thing. I listen for movement inside, but all I hear is the sound of metal clanking from the scrapyard. Pressing my hands against the filthy, water-stained window, I glimpse inside, but other than the shadows, it’s completely dark.
It was an accident how I found out about Sergio. A few months ago, I had been ordered to deliver prescription medication to him, but when I arrived, no matter how many times I knocked, no one answered. Knowing I couldn’t return to the hospital without a signature confirming the delivery, I stepped inside. To my surprise, I found an open trap door in the floor. Stressing about making my other deliveries before time ran out, I decided to risk descending the stairs. The light bulbs along the stairwell were lit—even though it was well past seven o’clock in the morning. We Laborers have electricity rationed to us from five to seven a.m. daily, and the government is infallible at keeping the electricity shut off the rest of the day. When I reached the bottom of the staircase, I overheard someone talking about counterfeit IDs.
And that’s when it all came together and the idea of registering for the Savage Run first came to me.
I stopped breathing at that point and quickly decided to make the other deliveries first. When I came back to Sergio’s place, I found him eating lunch. I’ve made two deliveries to him since then, and each time I brought a bottle of my father’s beer and smiled as I listened to him complaining about his ex-wife. I never brought the whole fake ID thing up to him, but he’s definitely some type of underground rebel, which is just the type of man I need.
I knock again—harder and longer this time.
Be home, please be home, I plead quietly to myself.
Suddenly the door flings open. Sergio’s dark blond, curly hair is messy and he has bags under his green puppy-dog eyes. “I did not order medication,” he says in a thick Eastern accent, a frown on his lips. He’s holding a beer bottle and smells like he hasn’t showered or changed in weeks.
Although I had this entire refined speech memorized, I can’t remember a single word of it. Instead, I just blurt out, “I’m not here for that. We’re here for fake IDs.” I inhale and hold it.
His right eyebrow twitches once. He grabs my elbow, pulls us inside, and slams the door shut. The room is a dark, stuffy, beer-smelling cave.
Pointing his index finger right in my face, he says, “I don’t know what you talking about, but talking like that is trouble for you and me both. Now get out of here.”
“No! I rescued my friend Gemma from a cruel Master. He said he was going to kill her, and he’ll kill me, too. The only way to get out of this mess is if we join the Savage Run. And for that I need my ID card to say that I’m a guy.”
He runs his hands through his hair before studying me for a moment. “I don’t know what you even talking about. I don’t have such fake IDs.” His tone is more nonchalant than before, flippant even.
I take a step toward him, my heart like a drum. “I know what you do. You have a trap door below that rug there.” I point and continue to say, “And if you don’t help us, I’ll notify the authorities.”
He frowns. “You do not have any proofs, little pteetsa.”
Pteetsa? “Then I’m sure you won’t mind if the Unifers search your house.” I grab the rusty doorknob, silently praying he’ll buy my bluff.
“Wait,” he says, hitting my hand away from the doorknob. “Ah, stupid girl. How you pay me?”
I repress a smile. “Your payment is that I won’t give you away.” I expect him to go ballistic on me, knock me unconscious or pull out a gun to get me to leave. He seems like the type of guy who doesn’t take any crap from anyone, especially a young Laborer girl without money or influence. “And if I survive, I’ll…remember you and send you money. And more beer.”
He starts to laugh, softly at first, increasingly louder until his round shoulders roll. “You survive Savage Run? You never will survive and I never will get pay.”
“But at least I’ll go to my grave with your secret.”
He pinches his upper lip, huffing loudly. Then, his eyes fall upon the locket around my neck and his eyes narrow.
“You give me necklace, I give you IDs.”
I reach up and curl my fingers around the smooth golden surface. My mother’s locket? Just thinking about giving it up makes me feel as if I’m parting with a piece of myself. But there is no time to waste and it has to be done. Ignoring the ache in my chest, I yank the chain from around my neck and hand it to Sergio.
“You are stupid girl for doing this. In few days when you die, I shed no tear.”
“Then you will have lost nothing.” My voice is dull.
Sergio bolts the lock on the front door, and then peels the rug back, exposing the trap door. Gemma grabs my arm when she sees it. “Come, my little pteetsas.” He lifts the circular latch and pulls the trap door open.
“What does pteetsa mean?” I ask when I pass him.
“It mean…‘bird.’”